Angels
by Rune1
Summary: A stream of consciousness from Josh's POV....*Also, I apologize beforehand for misuse of the Lord's prayer.*


ANGELS  
  
Spoilers: If there are any, they're unintentional because I haven't yet seen "Noel" or read any of the spoilers going around; I only read the synopsis on the t.v. guide  
Note: There's a lot of fic about how the other characters are regarding Josh's PTSD, but none really solely from Josh's perspective. I was hesitant to post this at first, but after several days of considering I thought what the heck.  
Disclaimer: oh if only they were mine...  
Warning: The material in this story is rather dark & depressing, and there are, as usual, a few swear words..  
  
  
I never knew it would feel like this- that the grip would be this hot in my hand. That it would sear my flesh even as it chilled it. Lord, please forgive me.  
It's just that...I can't take it anymore. I'm living for nothing right now; just breathing and existing, for no reason at all. That's not enough. You have to show me...you have to give me a reason, Lord...  
And the pain... It's never going to stop.  
This aching inside, it's going to be here for the rest of my life.  
However long that is.  
I don't know who I am anymore-  
I can't even think without being in pain. It reaches so deep inside of me. It's all hatred, all swirling inside me like a barrage of memories that I can't get rid of.  
Why am I still alive? I act like I don't care, that I'm grateful that the bullet collapsed my lung and wreaked havoc inside me instead of killing me; instead of piercing my heart, like it should have. God, what am I saying? I'm saying... I'm saying I should have died. That I want to die. God, please help me- somebody, anyone who cares. If anyone still does. I pushed them all away. I realize now why- I want there to be no way out for me, except... except that. Except doing the thing that I've always been taught was wrong, something only cowards did; after Joanie died, my parents told me life was precious. I used to think so, too. Not anymore, though. Now, life is just emptiness. I'm falling through it, and soon I'm going to hit the ground. And I don't want any of them- any of the people who I love more than family- around when I do. I want there to be no way out for me except this.  
Everything in my life is dark now. I know I have a lot to be grateful for, but I don't give a damn. All that I have doesn't matter to me. Nothing gives life meaning. I have no reason for getting up everyday, like I used to. What is there to live for? I was shot at- I was *shot* for God's sake- by some of the people I've tried to serve all my life. I don't understand, and I'm never going to understand.  
I can't fight the good fight anymore. I see the truth- that there *are* no good fights. I've been living in this delusion, this fantasy, that good people did exist, that I was seeking a higher goal- that I really could make a difference. I can't believe I was so stupid. I've learned so much in the last few months... There is no right or wrong. There's just being alive, and being...not. And that's all there is. No fighting the good fights. No waking up in the morning feeling ready to resume the crusade. There is no crusade, and I sure as hell never was a figurative knight; all this time I thought I was. I only find out now that I played the fool.  
Some would say I've been given another chance. But I say why did it even have to come to that? Why did I have to be shot in the first place?  
When I was shot- that bullet stole from me more than blood. I think my heart poured out, too, somewhere in the chaos that night. My idealism, my values- they all seeped out. And when the surgeons patched me up, they forgot to put those things back in, those things that made me Joshua Lyman. They sewed me up with the emptiness filling my chest, and with hate trapped up in there, mingling with my blood until now, it's part of who I am. The men who shot me- those young men... they shot a bullet tinged with hatred into my chest; as if their own torment and anger somehow rubbed off on it- and when it exploded through my body, it marked me for its own.  
Toby keeps telling me he thinks we should go after the guns, get them off the streets, pass some law- some law that I know is *never* in a million years going to go through- that will take the guns away. It's pointless. That isn't even a 'good fight' anymore. The bastards out there, all the hate groups filled with rank upon rank of young people, a cursed sign that the hate isn't going to die with the old generation, will still get guns somehow. And they will use them whenever they fucking feel like it; they will do what they want whether or not we pass a law. They don't care. And the scary things is, I don't either...not really...not as much as I used to. They already killed me. There's no way I can stop them from hurting other people, even the ones I love. There's no use fighting anymore. What's going to happen will happen. All I'm left with is choosing whether or not I'll still be around when it does.  
And the fact that I'm still alive...that's no gift. This hate tearing at me- God, it hurts more than the bullet ever did. Why did I get this chance? I didn't ask for it- it wasn't as if, back there in the hospital, I made any conscious decision to live. It's not as if I had the willpower to survive, or as if I was using the old Lyman tenacity, as many people thought. I didn't experience any of those "I want to live" dramatic moments when I was lying on the operating table, everything fading in and out around me. It just happened; I'm alive because...I don't know why. I just am. And all I know is I never asked for it.  
I used to think that I wanted to be around whenever times got bad. To support my friends, be a comfort to them, or whatever the bullshit was that I spouted to the president at that time when I actually believed what I was saying... I wanted to be there for them. I wanted to comfort them. I know now that I can't- I'm useless. Maybe I wasn't before, but it's different now. I'm just a shell. A shadow. Something that will melt away when the sun rises. And I really hope it comes- the sun, the deliverance, the healing- for them. I may not be able to feel it, but I want so badly for them to. I don't want them to have to come here and tread this same path. My friends at least can be saved. God, I hope they can be saved.  
But for me, it's too late.  
There's not going to be a light at the end of the tunnel this time.  
No one to catch me as I fall.  
I made sure they would all turn away; I spent the last few months preparing them for this, before I even knew what I was going to do.  
Hell, I still don't even really know.  
I just...I just want out of this. Out of everything.  
I want to fall into oblivion, into sweet release. Then the pain will end, it will fade away, and me with it.  
I could fall right now- the chance, the beautiful offer, stretches before me. It would be so easy to let go.  
I should think of reasons that I shouldn't do it. Just to tell God when I see Him that yes, I tried. That I didn't go quietly, or give up quite so easily. But that would be a lie; and how do you lie to God?  
Right now. That's all the time I have.  
Just this moment, this- can I even think it...hope. The hope that it will be over and I can rest. I'm so tired.  
I wonder what they'd say; what people would say about me after...  
If I was a good man, if I did my best for my country-  
Or if I was a coward... an egotistical jerk who'd never be missed-  
If I even deserve to be mourned.  
I say to hell with all of them. They won't be there, where I'm going. Someday, maybe, but not now. They won't know what it'll be like. Only me. Far away from the reporters, the cameras, the children with their guns... I want that peace more than life itself. Funny- that's exactly what I'll have to give up. That's the price. Such a simple fee for obtaining peace. I am so ready, so willing, to pay it in full.  
Oh Lord...I wonder what they will say. CJ, Sam, Toby...Donna...what Leo and the President will think. God, please let them not blame themselves; I know the power of guilt. How it can kill you inside. I need them to know I'm doing this on my own. That there's nothing they could have done; that I chose this for myself, this end, this release. God, please...let them accept my decision. Let them understand what I wrote tonight, what I tried to tell them...the letter is my only hope that they will understand.  
So jagged, so harsh... the grip is burning into my hand. I feel like my fingers- my palm- is on fire. I never knew guns could feel so hot to the touch, and yet so cold. It's a merging of pain, mirroring my inner torment. Is this what they- those misguided, desperate youths- felt? Were they thinking like I am now? Or were they confident, assured that what they were doing was right. God, they were so young...and already they thought they were ready to die, and to send others to their deaths. Just a few seconds of pressure from their fingers and...everything. They'd have carried out their mission. I wonder if they knew they were going to die... Lord, I think I'm going to be sick.  
Even now, they're haunting me. The two misguided youths shooting from the window. The one in the crowd. The millions of others out there, planning, waiting for their chance to do what the first three failed to.  
I can't take living in a place this empty. Where hate can be so open like this.  
Just a second of pressure from my finger and...  
-I can find peace. And hurt everyone who loves me.  
But the note will explain it.  
It will explain everything.  
Lord, I need to make my peace with you. Right now, before I do this...before I do this thing.  
God, I want you to know that this is the only way. That I'm in so much pain. You must be able to feel it. I hope you forgive me. Please, Lord...it's not my place...but I'm begging you to look after my friends, after my family...Sam, Donna, CJ, Toby, Charlie, Leo, Jed...it's all I'm asking of you. Even above your forgiveness.  
And Lord...  
Lord...  
If...  
If I don't get to heaven...I mean...I understand. I'm tainted, I know.  
But please, send me an angel...  
Just- now- I'm not asking for...I mean...  
Just an angel...after...to show me the way...wherever you send me...even if it's to hell- especially if it's to hell...  
Lord, and stop my crying; I never thought I would feel like this...this scared...as much as I press the cold metal against my forehead...I want to cry harder...I don't know what I'm doing, Lord. Oh God, oh God, please, show me what I need to do...I'm so lost...Lord, please...I can't stop this feeling...Help me stop hurting...  
........  
My Father, who art in Heaven,  
Hallowed be thy name...  
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...  
On Earth, as it is...as it is in Heaven.  
Forgive me Father, for I know exactly what I do.  
  
  
Epilogue  
"Josh?"  
Oh God, Sam.......  
My hand is shaking. I had been a second away from pulling that trigger. One more second and it would have been....... And I can't stop shaking......crying.....God, please, I don't want to die......not yet.....  
"Josh?"  
And CJ........ my back is to them, thank you Lord, they don't know........ I have to hide it, I have to get rid of........... in my desk, that's a good place......I don't want them to ever know.....thank you, Lord, thank you Lord, thank you.......  
"Oh my God," a voice wailed.  
She.....Donna........ she knows....... How did she see....... She was there.....she somehow got behind me....  
CJ and Sam, too, now they're next to me. Donna..... I can't bear to see their faces....  
Donna's pulled it out of the drawer. And all I can do is cry...  
How can I deny it?  
"I'm sorry..." is all I can whisper.  
I don't want to see the revulsion in their eyes, I'm going to leave, I'm going to run...  
They're standing in my way....in front of me. And Sam, his eyes, so much sorrow; I want to knock the gun out of his hands. So much innocence in his eyes dying. Oh Sam, please, I'm sorry- I'm sorry- don't let it taint you, please...CJ....Donna....I never meant to hurt you...  
God, why did you let this happen? You saved me, only to expose me to more pain; and to hurt the people who love me.  
I try to push my way past them, I can't help it, my arms are out, trying to carve a path through my friends. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be over now, finished. The note was supposed to deal with this.  
And then I can't run anymore. I'm surrounded by them, by their bodies, their arms- they've surrounded me in a hug... they've all drawn me into their arms, in the center of this circle... they're crying as they hold me...  
I'm crying freely now- the tears are burning as they slide down my cheeks. They burn like the grip on the gun did, but without the rage. Just the icy touch of pain. My hurt, my inner scars are washing away with my tears. As much as I try to hold onto it, to remember the hatred and what was done to me, it's melting away.  
God, is this your reply? Is this what you meant to happen?  
I want them never to let go.  
I forgot how good it felt to be loved, to be held- how much friendship means...how much a part of life it is, even with all the hate and anger that exists in the world.  
And despite what I said earlier...  
I do care.  
And now I know the real truth in life.  
It's not really only living and dying that matters; it's not only friendship that matters, too, although I'm seeing again how important it is-  
It's that sometimes  
just sometimes  
when you're broken, when you're up against a wall  
when you're falling and you think no one's there to catch you...  
Sometimes...  
Sometimes, God sends his angels.  
  



End file.
